


Recalling the Night

by Oscar_Wilde_Inspired



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1298719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oscar_Wilde_Inspired/pseuds/Oscar_Wilde_Inspired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt from Tumblr user shipppingalltheships</p><p>Spirk au where Jim gets a wrong number at a party and its Spocks number and they hit it off</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recalling the Night

**Author's Note:**

> I believe I followed this prompt fairly well. I'm learning HOORAY!

“What was the last digit?” Jim asked, yelled, over the thumping music. 

Rolling her eyes Uhura leaned in closer, her hot breath ghosted over the curve of Jim’s neck causing him to shiver. If he wasn’t so spectacularly drunk, and had class in, looking down at his watch Jim blinked his eyes in exaggerated movements holy hell it was late, six hours, he’d ask her back to his apartment. Apartment was a bit of an over statement, it was more of a studio apartment that was really just an old storage warehouse. The owner knew his dad and had given Jim an extremely low rent until he graduated college. Perks of being the son of a famous tactician in the U.S Navy. 

What was going? Shaking his head Jim tried to focus on what Uhura was saying. Was that her first name or second? He was certain she told him but the alcohol was making his thoughts sluggish and more scrambled than his moms attempts of eggs on Saturday mornings. 

“Got it,” Jim declared though he really had no idea what she really said. It might of been nine or it might’ve been go jump off a cliff either one was equally valid. 

With a pat on his cheek Uhura grinned and disappeared from his line of sight. That was a neat trick, she was fast, it kind of looked like she just beamed out of existence. Maybe she was magic. Or more likely she had invented some kind of invention that allowed her to transport. That seemed likely. She was smart, so smart.

The feeling of the pillow against his face was suddenly the best feeling in the world. Why hadn’t he just spent the entire party in bed instead of getting too drunk to make it back to his apartment? He had a vague memory of Bones grumbling very loudly as he more or less dragged Jim back to his place. There was some decoration made by the older man about crashing on Jim’s sofa because he didn’t deserve to have to walk home in the rain after dragging Jim’s heavy ass. 

 

A sharp ear shattering sound jolted Jim violently out of the alcohol induced coma he had been in. 

“Get off your lazy ass Jim. I’m a doctor not a personal alarm clock,” Bones yelled. The horribly offensive noise was coming from the phone that Bones had inches away from Jim’s face. Swatting lazily at the phone Jim begged for Bones to turn it off. “Not a chance you ungrateful bastard. Get up before I pour a bucket of cold water on you.”

“You’re not even a real doctor yet,” Jim yelled at Bones retreating back. All he got in return was a one finger salute. Clutching at his head Jim groaned, yelling had been a bad idea. 

 

He was halfway through his morning routine, he had spent the entire time trying to will himself not to throw up, when he noticed the number written in permanent marker on his forearm. Fuzzy flashes of a pin straight dark hair and a mesmerizing smile flashed through his mind. Grinning Jim found it a bit easier to get through his morning and force himself to go to class. It seemed that the dry spell he had been stuck in for the last six months was ending. If only he could remember more of the night and more of the girl whose breath caused a ripple of goosebumps to break out down his spine. 

Not even ten minutes into the lecture Jim found himself bored and resisting the urge to simply walk out. The professor was wholly incompetent he barely had a basic grasp on what he was teaching. The fact that this man was able to procure a teaching degree and then get someone to hire him was astounding. Jim had managed to self teach himself the exact subject when he was sixteen and had been under house arrest for stealing the sheriff’s motorcycle. How hard was it to grasp the concept of quantum mechanics, even a brain dead idiot could do a better job than the professor. If the man had any kind of brain he would let his TA take over. At least the robot, the nickname Jim had given the TA from the way he always stood ramrod straight with his hands behind his back, knew what he was talking about. The man was indescribably handsome, and the star of some of Jim late night fantasy if he was being honest with himself, but he had never seen a flicker of emotion across the man’s face.

Slipping his phone out of his pocket Jim checked to make sure the professor was still droning on, incorrectly he might add, about zero point energy. Typing the number into his phone Jim quickly checked to make sure the robot was busy grading papers. They had been told the TA’s name at the beginning of the semester but Jim had forgotten it. The robot seemed to have a honing system that specifically designed to ensure if Jim’s attention wandered he’d be there to snap it back on track. So at desperate times such as this he’d have to be careful.

This is Jim from the party last night. Thought I’d text you to say hi and ask if you’d like to get a cup of coffee with me. 

He hit send. When there was no reply after twenty minutes he slipped the phone back into his pocket. Maybe she was busy, probably one of those people that actually paid attention in class.

Jim nearly vaulted over a slow moving student to get out of the lecture hall once the professor finally dismissed them. Physics was supposed to be fun, was supposed to be challenging and groundbreaking but this man had managed to systematically destroy every last shred of joy that came from it. He should get some kind of award for being the worst professor in the history of college. And that was saying a lot because in his four years at college he’s had a whole slew of bad teachers. But his mom and dad had been so proud when he presented with a full ride scholarship to the most prestigious college in the U.S and he’s not going to do anything to disappointment them anymore than he already has. It had been extremely generous of the Dean to overlook his past criminal record. It wasn’t like he had a history of murdering people or anything but a few misdemeanors, and two felonies, here and there start to add up after a while. 

He was sitting in the school canteen a half eaten dry turkey sandwich in front of him when his phone vibrated with a received message. Excitedly he scooped up his phone a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth when he saw it was Uhura’s number. 

While it’s refreshing to see that there are people out there who can still use proper grammar in text messaging I do not know who you are. Or, for that matter, know how you got my number as I did not engage in any kind of party last night.

Frowning at the message Jim checked the number on the screen against the slightly smudged number on his arm. He was certain he sent it to the right number. 

Groaning Jim let his phone fall onto the table. Of course he had been too drunk to get the number right. First person who had caught his interest, outside robot TA, in months and he flubbed their number. Of course this was his life. 

Sorry man, wrong number.

Jim sent and took a half hearted bite out of his sandwich. It tasted even worse than he previously thought.

That is quite alright after all one would not expect you to be able to properly record a phone number while you were intoxicated.

Swallowing the half chewed bite Jim glared down at the phone. What the hell? Why was this guy being such a dick over a wrong number text? 

You don’t have to be such a dick about it. I already apologized for texting you. Like I said, wrong number. 

There was a few seconds pause before his phone vibrated with another received text. 

I assure you that I was not trying to be a ‘dick’ about this miscommunication. I simply meant that whilst being intoxicated it is quite difficult to properly record and store data. 

Shaking his head Jim quickly typed out his response. Was this guy for real? They talked like a 19th century English professor. No one talked like that anymore. 

Do you talk this like in person as well? Not only is your grammar perfect but your choice of wording sounds like you should be wearing a sweater vest and thick rimmed glasses. 

There was barely a pause before the response came.

I don’t see how my word choice would dictate my clothing choices. That is a purely illogical train of reasoning. 

You do, don’t you? You wear sweater vest and thick rimmed glasses. That is just too perfect.

Jim text back a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth.

My clothing choice has no direct correlation to my manner of speech. Like I said, illogical. 

Laughing Jim tapped his fingers against the table as he thought out his reply. He had almost formed one in his mind when he noticed the time. Three minutes to get to his next class that was at the very least a five minute jog across campus. Cursing under his breath Jim chucked the half eaten sandwich into the garbage and shoved his phone into his pocket. 

It wasn’t until he was back to his apartment, there was note on the counter from Bones stating that Jim needed to invest in better coffee, that he looked at his phone again. He scrolled through the brief conversation with the mystery person as he sat down with a cold beer. Taking a long pull from the bottle Jim propped his feet up on the coffee table he had scavenged out of the trash heap a few blocks away. 

So what are you, an English professor or a two hundred year old Victorian gentleman?

Jim had gone through two beers and three microwavable burritos before his screen lit up with a received message. 

The latter would be impossible as time travel has not been invented yet or a youth serum. And the former is incorrect as well.

Time travel hasn’t been invented yet? Holding out some lingering hope are we?

Science advances at a rapid pace. We do not know what the future of scientific advancement holds in store for us.

I get the feeling that you’re silently hoping that time travel will be invented while you’re still alive.

Seeing such a feat of engineering would be truly a spectacular occasion to behold. Of course I do hope that I would be alive to see such a momentous event. 

Is that what you are then, an engineer?

Have your parents ever given you the talk on stranger danger? 

What does that have to do with anything?

It’s rather ill advised to seek out and engage in a conversation with a person you’ve never met. For all you know I could be a predator trying to lure you away to end your life.

Considering I was the one who texted you that seems rather illogical. Maybe I’m a predator trying to lure you away.

Are you insinuating that you’re a pedophile? Perhaps I should hand over your phone number to the authorities if that’s the case. It would after all be my civic duty. 

Okay so bad choice of words on my part. I can assure you that I am not pedophile and that I am also quite legal. 23 to be exact.

Well that’s a relief on my part. 

What you’re not going to tell me your age? I feel like this personal information sharing should go both ways. Got to ensure you’re not some creeper old guy.

I can guarantee you that I am not ‘a creeper old guy’ but I am not divulging my personal information to a complete stranger.  
What? Come on man we’re not strangers anymore. We both know the other isn’t a pedophile and that neither of us are old men. 

There was no response this time. Jim sent a few more random text but there still was no response. By time he fell onto his bed for the night he had pushed the conversation out of his mind. There was no use dwelling on it. Obviously the person no longer wanted to continue their fleeting interaction and Jim wasn’t really one to chase someone after their expressed their disinterest. 

Weeks passed with no more messages from the stranger until Jim was once more drunk at a party. He wasn’t nearly as gone as he had been at the previous party. He had just enough this time to loosen his limbs and his tongue. 

He had nearly closed the deal with a strikingly handsome man with a thick Scottish accent when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Thinking it was Bones demanding that they leave so he had time to sleep before his human biology exam tomorrow he pulled it out. A vaguely familiar number flashed across his screen.

I know that this is a very vague stab in the dark but by chance are you attending a party at 103 Barker Street?

Jim couldn’t remember the excuse he gave the Scottish man as he ambled away. 

Did you decide that stalking me was a more socially acceptable way of sharing personal information than over text?

I assure you that I am not stalking you. I simply remember you stating that you had been at party a few weeks ago and like I said this a very vague chance but I thought perhaps you would be at the one that is currently being hosted.

If I say yes will you answer a question for me?

It depends on what the question is.

Do you attend Standford?

There was a very long pause before the answer came.

I do as does my friend which is the reason I am texting you. She sent me a text earlier in the night stating that a young man had been following her and I have lost contact with her. She was supposed to be at the party I previously mentioned. 

A streak of concern filtered through Jim.

When was the last time you spoke to her?

About a half hour ago. She stated that she had made it to the party but thought that the man had followed her. I am on my way there but it will be another ten minutes before I am able to arrive.

I can do a quick sweep of the place if you’d like. Send me a description or a picture if you can.

There was a ping of a picture message received. Jim froze when he answered it. Grinning up at him from the small screen was Uhura, the woman he had flirted with the entire night at the last party. 

Pocketing the phone Jim quickly scanned the faces in the room. He recognized a few people from around school but none of them were the face he was looking forward. He could feel himself sober up as he pushed his way through the crowd. Stopping a few people he showed Uhura’s picture to them. It took too long for his liking before someone recognized her. The girl nearly spilled her drink on him when she giggled and told him she had seen her go up to the roof with some guy. 

Not bothering to thank her Jim sent out a shaky text as he ran towards the roof access door. He had spotted it as he waited for the door to be opened when he first arrived. 

You should be here by now. On roof, hurry.

As he burst out onto the roof he heard the angry yells of a woman followed by a man yelling at her to shut up. Skidding on gravel as he turned a corner Jim shouted 

“Hey,” startling the man who had Uhura’s arm in a tight grip. 

The distraction was just long enough that Uhura struck out and slammed her fist into the man’s windpipe with enough force to drop the guy. Letting go of Uhura’s arm to clasp his throat the man choked on the force of the punch. Uhura landed a strong kick to the man’s groin. With a high pitched squeal of pain the main collapsed sideways. 

“Thank you,” Uhura wrinkled her nose at the man as she stepped over him. “You provided a distraction at the most perfect moment.”

“Ugh glad I could be of help,” Jim offered. 

Narrowing her eyes Uhura’s eyes tracked over his face “You look familiar.”

“Yeah you…we met at a party a few weeks ago.” Jim felt awkward now. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do in this situation. He thought he was going to have to rescue someone only to watch as they expertly handled the situation. He’s never been more impressed with someone as he was right now. 

Uhura’s eyes widened “Oh I remember you. You’re the one that kept following me around like a little drunk puppy.”

“What?” Jim could feel the back of his neck heat up “that’s not even…” Jim was cut off by the door slamming open and the sound of someone running across the roof. 

“That’s probably you’re friend, he’s the reason I came looking for you actually.”

Rolling her eyes Uhura huffed out a laugh “Spock is always so protective. He should know by now that I can handle myself against some pathetic frat boy stalker.” 

“Spock?” Jim asked his brows furrowed in confusion. Spock was extremely uncommon name. In fact he had only met one other person with that name and that was his TA from his Physics class. 

“Nyota” the man wrapped Uhura in a brief hug before pulling back to check her over for injuries. “I was worried.”

Laughing Uhura patted him lightly on the cheek “You worry too much.”

“Um…” Jim added unintelligently. 

“Thank you” Spock extended his hand but stopped halfway through the motion. Recognition light up his face “Kirk?”

“Yeah” was the only thing Jim could muster. The person he had been texting, the person he had managed to fall for over the span of a twelve hour conversation, was his TA. The unfeeling, robotic TA that had astounded Jim on the first day of class with his intelligence. Either this was the most random and unprecedented coincidence in history or there was something more happening here. Personally Jim was leaning heavily on the latter. 

Spock turned towards Uhura with a frown pulling down his rather pointed eyebrows “Nyota.” His tone of voice sounded chiding and from the look on Uhura’s face it was entirely justified. 

“Kirk? As in Kirk from the class you TA? Didn’t you say that he displayed superior intellect that undoubtedly surpassed the professor? But his inability to focus on the subject was infuriating because he carried so much potential. And something about the way his face looked under the soft lights in the lecture hall?” Jim couldn’t muster anything more than a strangled sounding noise. “It is so cold out here,” Uhura announced suddenly and than simply walked off leaving the two of them with the now unconscious attacker. 

“It’s nearly ninety degrees Fahrenheit out,” Spock frowned at Uhura’s retreating back. 

“That was…” Jim started than stopped “I have the feeling that I was given the wrong number on purpose because I’m about ninety five percent sure I wrote it down correctly.” 

“I suspect that you are correct,” Spock confirmed. He was holding his hands behind his back; his shoulders were squared and held with perfect posture. His face belayed none of the earlier emotion had he had displayed when he had discovered Uhura unharmed. 

“Does this…I’ll stop…” running a frustrated hand through his hair Jim glanced around the roof.

“Would you like to join me for a coffee?” Spock asked suddenly. His entire body was a rigid line, tense to the point he was nearly vibrating. 

“It’s two a.m.” Jim pointed out.

Jim didn’t think it was possible but the man became even tenser “Yes of course it is. What I meant was that…”

“There’s a twenty four seven café about two blocks away. Coffee sounds like an excellent idea right now.”

The line of Spock’s shoulder relaxed a small fraction and his normally stoic face pulled up into a small smile. “I’m twenty six by the way.”

“Well that’s a relief on my part.” Jim commented dryly not missing the way Spock’s mouth turned up into a genuine smile.


End file.
